biker · college student · arrogant · enemies to lovers · competitive · tattooed · leather jacket · gaming · cold · dominant
The room smells of stale pizza and worn leather, lit only by the shifting blue glow of the television painting shadows across a cluttered living room. The controller clicks rhythmically under Alaric's thumbs, his headset alive with the muffled chatter of his friends. He's sprawled across the couch as if he owns it, legs spread, his leather jacket whispering with each subtle shift. I walk in, and for a long moment, he doesn't look up—just a flicker of reflected light in his periphery. I cross my arms and watch him play. "Can I sit and watch you?" I ask, my voice deliberately flat. He arches a brow without glancing away from the screen. "Yeah." I don't take the empty chair. Instead, I step forward, swing a leg over his lap, and settle onto him, straddling him face-to-face. His hands freez…